


Dissonance

by Dopamineandducks



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Affairs, F/M, Jealousy, Loki's a hunky piece of meat all the ladies want, Love Triangles, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dopamineandducks/pseuds/Dopamineandducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif struggles to deal with her softer feelings and Loki completely misunderstands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Per request to continue "Somewhere That's Green."

Victory was supposed to taste like golden heaven: a magnificent treat of cosmic validation and justification for his struggles up until this moment. Disappointment and resentment didn’t even begin to describe his feeling when his succession of Asgard tasted like ash. He wasn’t filled with glory or heralded by trumpets and choirs. It was quiet when he stood before Asgard, armor gleaming, with Thor chained behind him like a defeated rag. He didn’t expect cheers, but he did expect obligatory applause for the new king. How foolish he had been. There would never be love for Loki.

There wasn’t much to do until the execution at dawn. There were, of course, the petty disputes of peasants he was expected to preside over now. However, he did not wage bloody war after bloody war to parent commoners bickering over land disputes. No, he was above that now. He was not their king—he was hardly even a god anymore. Loki was more than any of that. He was titan: untouchable, indestructible and all powerful. Loki Laufeyson was a titan and titans care not for the trivial complaints of serfs.

He glided through the halls of the palace— _his_ palace—with a new sense of being. The nervous glances and loathsome sneers from servants and courtiers did not escape his periphery. His blood heated and felt toxic. The nerve of them to so openly hate him—their Titan King! They would learn. They would all learn in time.

“Ward,” he barked suddenly. His baritone voice cracked through the tense silence like a whip.

There was a nervous sputter and a jingling of keys before a sad, hunch of a man appeared before him. He bowed awkwardly. “Yes, m’lord?”

“Have you keys to the dungeon?”

He nodded. “Yes, m’lord.”

“Take me down there at once.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

The hunchbacked man guided Loki to the sentries’ tower and down into the bowels of Gladsheim. The architecture in the dungeons was void of the beautiful marble and metal that constructed the rest of the palace. Course stone and rock made up the walls and flooring here, making dungeon dark and cold. It appeared to be an unassuming prison, but Odin had the prison enchanted centuries ago with a magic that both excited and impressed Loki. Anyone locked within the cells were guaranteed an eternity with no hope of escape.

 _Not even Thor could escape here_ , Loki thought viciously as they passed the first door and ventured further down the hall.

The ward cleared his throat uncomfortably. “If you don’t mind my askin’, m’lord, why are we down here?”

“Foolish of you to think you are privy to your king’s intentions, ward,” Loki growled. The ward paled and hunched over further into himself. He was a disfigured, lesser Asgardian without an ounce of courage to be proud of. Loki pitied him. “But if you must know,” he continued, “I am here to see a friend.”

“A friend, sire?”

“Take me to the cell of our dear Lady Sif.”

The ward nodded and quickly hobbled down a long corridor to a cell at the very end. The door was shrouded in darkness, just out of the touch of the flickering torch on the wall. This pleased Loki greatly. _Let her rot in the dark_ , he thought. The image of Sif the Fair wasting away in the shadows of the dungeon was a better ending for the Goddess of Venom than he could have imagined. Finally, he could have his revenge.

“Open the door and leave, ward.” Loki’s voice was raspier than he expected it to be. He was breathing heavily, as if standing just outside of Sif’s door was a great labor to him. He barely noticed the ward slip the key into the lock and slink away. A trickle of cold air whispered out of the dark cell. Loki’s heart thrummed in his throat. He didn’t expect that.

He snatched the torch from the wall and slowly opened the door, its hinges groaning in protest. The torchlight barely penetrated the dark of the small cell, but after his eyes adjusted, he saw a figure huddled on the ground with arms chained to the wall above her head.

“I was wondering when you would show yourself,” Sif said in a low, husky voice.

Rage spiked in his body terrifyingly fast. He was disciplined, though, and steeled himself. “How arrogant of you to expect to see me.”

“And yet here you are.”

Loki’s lip twitched. “I simply came to share the news of your beloved Thor’s execution tomorrow,” he said candidly. “Consider it a courtesy to receive this information.”

She deigned to laugh. “If you actually believe you could kill Thor, you are a greater fool than I thought you to be.”

“I bested him in battle. His soul is as good as Hela’s.”

“Regardless of what cowardly trick you employed to get the better of Thor, you will never kill him. You are destined to fail.”

Fire flew through Loki’s body. In an instant, he was before Sif with his bony fingers tangled in her raven hair. She yelped when he ripped her head back. “I am King of Asgard,” he hissed dangerously, “I have defeated Thor and I will consolidate my victory when he hangs from the scaffolding tomorrow morning.” His eyes drifted down her pale throat to her chest wrapped in dirty rags.

“That morning will never come, Laufeyson,” she said evenly. “Your past is littered with failures, as your future will be. You will never kill Thor.”

Like many times before in the distant past, their gazes locked. However, unlike the stolen glances from their youth, nothing but pure hatred passed from Sif. Her olivine eyes were nearly black and Loki could see her desire to kill him within their depths. Loki didn’t want to kill Sif. He wanted to do much worse to her: dig knives into her taunt, beautiful body and slowly, so very slowly, drag them down her length and cut her to ribbon. Or perhaps perform a vivisection and cut out her heart to feed the country swine, much like she did to him those years ago. Sif may want Loki dead, but Loki wanted Sif alive to torture mercilessly. He wanted to inflict on her the pain he suffered tenfold. She would learn to hate life as much as Loki hated her and beg him for the death Loki would never grant. It was nothing more than she deserved.

Loki lowered his lips to her ear, just barely hovering above her flesh. Long ago, this action would have led to her unmaking. “Your denial will not shield him, Lady Sif,” he whispered. Sif fliinched beneath him. “Throw your venom-tipped words at me all you like, they won’t change a thing. However, if you wish to barter yourself a more tolerable fate, I’m sure one could be arranged.” He dragged his tongue up the length of her jaw and quickly sucked her earlobe. Sif immediately ignited and thrashed away from him. Chuckling, Loki released her hair from his grip and tossed her head back against the stone wall.

She spit at him. “You revolting filth!”

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door. He craned his neck over his shoulder to see her frenzied glare, her gorgeous raven hair a wild and untamed halo around her head. Despite her tattered rags and feral appearance, she was beautiful. “It was good to see you too, Sif.” He closed the door on her profane shrieks and left the dungeon.


	2. Serious Injuries

Yes, she was alive. Her head was shaking, vision blurry, body possibly broken and gravity was exerting its dominance over her, but she was alive. She tasted blood in her mouth, lots of blood, which poured down her chin as if she were a rabid beast. She coughed and hated the world for it due to the pain that consequently exploded in her abdomen. Where was she? Somewhere where the earth was loose and putrid. Where was her sword?

“ _Sif!”_

The ringing in her ears made it difficult to discern whether or not she heard her name. Frantically she searched the area trying her best to make sense of the frenzy through the shaking and spottiness of her vision. There was a giant boulder beside her with—what was that dark splatter on it? Blood, of course. Hers most likely. She remembered flying through the air, violently coming to a sudden stop and tumbling to the acrid ground. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how the hell she managed to fly, why the ground smell so horribly and where the hell was her sword?

“ _Sif, move!”_

Instinct told her to look up. A blurry, gray mass the size of a mountain was hurtling towards her. _Get up you fool! Run!_ her body pleaded, but her brain did not authorize the action. She stared as the rapidly approaching mass got bigger and bigger, shaking the ground wildly and adding tremulous noise to the ringing in her ears until her entire vision was filled with grey. She felt her limbs tense as if bracing for impact and then….

Hard rain? She turned her face away, tucking her face as far into her shoulder as she could manage as she was pelted with heavy and sharp solid drops. The barrage didn’t last long and when it finished, she looked up to see the gray mass had vanished. She was positive something had just been in front of her and now all she could see were faint figures moving erratically in the distance around what appeared to be more gray masses.

She thought she cried out loud as she was suddenly lifted from the ground. Though two arms moved her to lean against the boulder with care, her head lolled around as if her neck were suddenly made of a daisy stem. Her cheeks cooled as she felt the faint suggestion of hands on her cheeks.

“ _Sif, can you hear me?”_

Her tongue wouldn’t comply, but she made some sort of grunt.

“ _Damnit! Thor, we need to get out of here! Sif is injured!_ ”

Thor?

There was a shock of jagged light followed by a tremendous boom and rumble.

Ah yes, Thor.

“ _We have almost defeated the, brother! She will be alright!”_

Her head lolled again as her body was positioned to lean heavily against another body. The aroma of silky smoke and musk tickled her senses—the smell of magic. A wave of warmth radiated in her heavy chest as she buried her face closer to the scent. An arm around her waist strengthened about her, drawing a hiss from her lips.

“ _There are too many of them, Thor! Sif is out of her senses, she needs to be healed!”_ The voice was far away, but the vibration of it was far too near. The tremors it sent through her body aggravated her injuries. A whimper escaped her lips.

“ _We were not prepared for stone trolls, Thor!”_ Another voice yelled. She knew that voice, too but couldn’t place it.

Horrid noises ensued: screams, booms, explosions, chinks, and gravely roars filled her ears until a thunderous voice called out _Heimdall!_ Immediately her body felt as if it were being stretched apart. Wind and dust whipped against her face as if she were caught in the center of a maelstrom. A second arm folded around her with a large strong hand gripping the back of her head, pressing her face into the scent of magic. She felt the need to vomit and then blacked out.

 

***

Sif was conscious, but refused to open her eyes. She was very much aware of the vast amounts of light spilling in—judging by the sterile odor—the Healing Hall. The aches and pains pulsing all over her body and the detached feeling she felt in her head suggested that, this time, she got seriously fucked up. So given that she was in the worst condition she had endured her entire life, she figured she deserved to take her time coming back to the waking world.

She scoured her memory for clues that led to her situation. Alfheim—they had gone to Alfheim to partake in the light elves’ autumnal equinox festival. There was dancing, singing, delicious fare Sif melted over, and a trek to the famous hot springs. Everything went without a hitch until the walk back to the village. Hogun heard something in the trees: something that sounded like an avalanche but there was no mountain or hill around. Fandral shouted and everything plummeted to chaos from there, though what exactly took place, Sif couldn’t remember.

It took her a good length of time to remember those details. It felt as if she were trying to untangle a knot steel wool. A hot curtain of shame and anger fell on her when she remembered she had neglected to bring her sword to the springs. She rarely went anywhere without her sword and she vowed that after this incident, it would be a mistake she would never make again. There was not a doubt in her mind that she wouldn’t be as severely hurt as she was now had she had bothered to bring it along.

A door opened gently, bringing in hushed voices speaking to one another. She opened her eyes just enough to make out the speakers. One was clearly Eir, an ageless woman frocked in the deep blue uniform of the Healing Hall and the other was a lithe woman with very long hair and a loose white dress. They approached her quietly, her eyes closing once again to not get caught. Eir pressed her fingers against Sif’s pulse on her neck to measure her heart rate. A slender hand belonging to the other woman fell gently on her cheek, her thumb soothingly stroking her.

“Her heart is normal,” Eir whispered. “Shall I leave you to stay with her?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Eir.”

“I’ll return later to check on her.”

Sif listened to her retreating footsteps until the door was shut behind her. The woman settled lightly into a chair beside the bed, barely making a sound. Sif wondered who she was: the voice was far too airy to belong to the queen and rarely did Frigga ever wear her hair down. It was extremely unlikely for her mother to have visited: she was always busy looking after orphaned children in the city and could hardly spare a moment. Sif didn’t mind that her mother never visited. She believed her mother was good and fulfilling a noble cause. The children needed her far more than Sif had in a long time.

Curiosity still bit at Sif’s ear. She cracked open her eyes to spy on the person beside her. The woman was looking directly at her, a faint yet warm smile painted on her lips. “I knew you were awake,” she said, voice floating in the air like a cumulus cloud.

Sif’s eyes fluttered open wide when she recognized the woman. “Kelda,” she said with a smile, her voice was weak and crackling. She pushed herself up to sit, wincing only slightly at the pain in her side. Her head spun momentarily and throbbed dully.

“Easy,” Kelda chided gently as she grasped Sif’s hand. She gave a light squeeze; one Sif did not hesitate to return. She groaned and rested her head back against a soft headboard. Her chest quaked with a small cough. Kelda reached to the table beside her and poured water from a silver pitcher into a cup. Gingerly, she held it to Sif’s lips who drank slowly but greedily. When she had her fill, Kelda placed the cup back on the table and settled herself back into the chair. She gazed at Sif with impossibly blue eyes. “It seems you had quite the adventure on Alfheim.”

There was laughter in Kelda’s voice, though no one but Sif would have noticed. Kelda was not one to speak with or show inflection or emotion in generous amounts. Her voice was always even and dreamy as if she were living in a space far away, but Sif learned long ago the subtleties of Kelda and knew she was amused. “It wasn’t as boring as I anticipated,” she said. “Sorry we left you.”

Kelda shook her head to ward off her apology. She picked up Sif’s hand once more and enveloped it within hers. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Loki told me what happened.”

Sif nodded and realized that her companions were missing. Usually when their adventures ended in the Healing Hall, a couple of them would have earned an overnight stay but she was the only patient in the room. Rather than feeling thankful for their lack of needing Eir’s attention, Sif was irritated that she was the only one who did. “Where are the others?”

Kelda folded her hands neatly on her lap. “Thor was just here, but was summoned to the All-Father about fifteen minutes ago. Fandral, Hogun and Volstag visited you this morning, as well as Loki. Their injuries were relatively minor.”

 _Wonderful_ , Sif growled in her head. She sensed she would be harassed for this one for a long time.

“How are you feeling,” Kelda asked.

Sif considered herself a moment. Her body didn’t hurt very much, only minor aches and sores as if she had a particularly rigorous sparring match. The only thing that caused alarm was her head. She felt as if her vision was swimming whenever she turned her head and there was a dull pain somewhere in her beneath her skull that she couldn’t pinpoint. “Not bad, considering,” she answered. “My head hurts.”

Kelda’s smooth hand brushed over her forehead and through her hair. Sif sighed and closed her eyes, hoping the room would stop shaking if she stopped looking at it. “Eir said you had a few fractures. It took her hours to knit it back together with her magic.”

“Did she say how long until I am recovered?”

Kelda shook her head, her wavy blond hair shaking into her face. She tucked her hair back behind her ear and offered Sif a sympathetic smile.

Sif sighed, suddenly aware of the restlessness in her arms and legs. She never liked to stay still for very long, and being confined to a small bed was not appealing to her. Though despite her itch to move, even she knew that was a bad idea. Head injuries were not to be taken lightly and she would just look like a fool anyway if she attempted walking when her vision shook and the rooms spun. She just hoped it wouldn’t take long.

“How long have I been here?”

“Three days,” Kelda replied quietly.

Sif’s eyes flew open, upsetting her senses most unpleasantly. “Three days?” When Kelda nodded, Sif felt her stomach lurch. She had never been this injured before. The longest stay in the Healing Hall prior to this had been one day and that was because a dwarf dragon had pierced her pauldron with its razor talons and tore up her shoulder. It took Eir and an assistant several hours to stop the bleeding and stitch her up. Sif was not allowed to leave that in case the wound opened back up and started to bleed again. But three days of being unconscious? How awful was the fight?

“Everyone has been worried about you.”

Distress was written all over Sif’s face. “What happened?” Her voice was weaker this time, but for a different reason than a sore throat.

“Stone trolls ambushed you when you were heading back to the village,” Kelda replied, her voice silky. She gazed at Sif with sad, worried eyes. “One threw you against a boulder. It would have killed you had Loki not exploded the monster with his magic.”

Sif’s heart jumped to her throat. “Loki,” his name practically leaped out of her mouth. “Is he alright?”

Kelda nodded. “He has a few cuts and bruises, but he is fine.”

Sif didn’t know she was tense until her muscles relaxed and her breath flew out of her lungs. “Good.” She would have to thank Loki in person for saving her life. A warm wave tingled through her chest and stomach, making her heart beat just a little faster. Disturbed by the sensation, Sif shut her eyes again and breathed deeply. An involuntary smile spread to her lips. Why she smiled, she didn’t know, or rather chose to ignore the reason. Kelda, however, caught her smile and while she didn’t remark upon it, she stored it away in her memory.

“I should let you rest,” Kelda said. She rose to her feet effortlessly and placed her hand on Sif’s arm. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow, if you’d like.” Sif nodded, saying that it would be lovely. A lovely smile appeared on Kelda’s pink lips, her eyes shining beneath her black lashes at her friend. She dipped her head quietly and glided out of the room like a ghost. Sif shimmied back down and rested her head on the feathered pillows. She was feeling fine, just a little sleepy. Hopefully it was a good sign and she’d be able to return to her normal routine in the next day or so. Her eyes fluttered shut as a yawn overcame her. Soon, she was asleep.


	3. A Dance

Sif was confined to the Healing Hall two more days. Eir would have preferred to keep her a day longer to make sure her head was feeling alright, but Sif was so ornery by the end of her stay, Eir just wanted her gone. Gladly Sif stalked out of the white halls and would have gone immediately to the training room had Thor not intercepted her and attempted to corral her back to her chamber. After a few choice words and an aggressive shove to accentuate her point, Thor relented and let her go as she pleased.

She made her way to the rear of the palace where the training yards were located. Realizing she didn’t have her sword, she plucked a stock weapon hanging on a wall by the yard. She gave it a few sample swings to learn its balance. A frown curled on her mouth: the sword was awful. The blade was dingy with kinks in the blade and the pommel was uncomfortable, seemingly not crafted to be held at all. However, Sif was not in the vein to take the long journey back to her room just to retrieve her sword when all she wanted was to release her pent up aggression.

Barking like a war hound, Sif selected her opponent at random. Alvar, a large meaty man similar to Thor in bulk, grunted at her challenge. Though the soldiers were instructed to treat Sif as an equal, there was the unspoken agreement that fighting Sif was inane and fatuous, despite the notion that she rarely walked away without victory. The two sparred in one the dusty rings circled by a few onlookers. Alvar wasn’t half the warrior Sif expected him to be and bested him within a few minutes. Her next opponent proved to be the same, but when Sif demanded a stronger man step forth, they dispersed and left her wanting.

Furious, Sif flung the sword to the ground and stalked back to the palace. The warm air chased the autumn chill away from her body when she entered the gleaming hall. Outside, the sun began to set behind the western trees, casting orange streaks across the darkening, gray sky. Anger was swirling within her and prickling at the underside of her skin. A pulse began to throb in the side of her head, making her vision shake once again. She sucked in a breath and held it bitterly as if she could asphyxiate the pulse. Her fists balled tightly, nails dug in to her callused palms. Consumed by her rage, she couldn’t think of anything other than punching something.

“Finally, Asgard can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that her champion appears to be recovered.”

Nearly leaping out of her skin, Sif whirled around to see Loki walking up behind her. One of his crooked smirks twisted his lips and his unwavering gaze held hers. Her body went rigid as he approached. A tendon in her neck became particularly tense as her breathing became more shallow and difficult. He stopped a few feet in front of her. “Loki,” she breathed. Her pulse accelerated to allegro. “I see you are doing well.”

There was a small cut on the ridge of his cheek, but besides that, he looked unscathed. “Same as ever, my lady. You, however, gave us quite the scare.”

She attempted to shrug it off, but her body did not feel like her own and her movement felt unnatural. “Eir was being cautious. Truly, I was alright.”

Loki gave her an incredulous look. “You were unconscious for three days. You barely moved.”

Sif balked as a flush appeared on her cheeks. By the way Loki tilted his head, she assumed he noticed. “Thank you,” she said quickly (and a touch aggressively) in hopes of distracting him. “For saving my life.”

His eyes and smirk softened to a kind demeanor. The brightness in his eyes made Sif swallow. “You’re welcome.” A moment of silence passed in which Loki stared at her and Sif used every bit of self control to prevent from squirming. A grin threatened to expose her and despite biting her lip to repress it, the corners of her mouth lifted against her will. When Loki grinned in turn, a laugh escaped from Sif. Her hand flew to her mouth to silence herself, but she couldn’t. “Are you alright,” Loki asked, also not able to contain his chuckling.

“Yes,” she said, willing herself to calm down. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Though Sif steeled her face, the light of Loki’s smile remained on his. “Well I should be going. Will I see you at dinner tonight?” She was too busy biting the insides of her cheeks to prevent smiling again, so she just nodded and hoped he wouldn’t comment on it. He seemed satisfied with the answer and gave her a shallow, and somehow sarcastic, bow. “I will see you there.” He walked past her, leaving a faint scent of magic in his wake, and disappeared around a corner.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, Sif exhaled loudly and made her way to her own chambers in a cloud of embarrassment. She peeled her boots off and placed them beside her dresser. A lovely arrangement of roses and dahlias was placed on the top of the dresser. A note from Frigga expressing how relieved she was that Sif had recovered was tied to the silver vase by a satin ribbon. She obligatorily smelled the flowers before she moved to her washroom to bathe. Hot water poured from a slit in the wall that was the length of her forearm. Soon the room was filled with steam that cleared her airways, allowing her to breathe deeply and relax. She noticed the faint green and yellow bruises on her right hip and shoulder. She imagined they were quite ugly before Eir healed her with skilled hands and wished she could remember the battle.

Sif finished her shower and dressed in a maroon and silver tunic with black breeches. She was just sitting down to sharpen her weapons when there was a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she called without pulling her eyes away from her task. Kelda drifted inside, looking lovely as ever in another flowing white dress and her wavy hair shining and cascading down to back of her knees. She helped herself to a chair by the fireplace in the corner of the room and chatted casually as Sif tended to her weapons.

As Kelda stood to leave, she turned with a thoughtful expression. “I was hoping, Sif, you’d accompany me to town tomorrow for shopping.”

Sif balked and looked up from the knife she was sharpening. It’s not that she was against shopping, it’s just that she only felt the need to shop once, maybe twice a year to indulge her material desires. The rest of the year, she found it tedious and boring. She usually would have no problem rejecting Kelda’s offer; the two had been friends long enough that Sif didn’t fear offending her, but it had been a long time since Sif spent time with just her. Most days Sif spent her time in the company of Thor and the Warriors three, gallivanting across the Nine Realms while Kelda lived the typical life of a courtier. This had been especially true lately as Thor kept whisking them away on summer’s end hunting trips. She sighed and nodded though she was not excited for the venture at all.

Eventually time came for Sif to attend dinner. She selected a silver dress from her wardrobe, left her hair loose around her shoulders and headed to the banquet hall. A cacophony of conversation, drunken singing and music assaulted her as she stepped into the warmly glowing hall. Crimson and gold banners bearing Odin’s crest hung from the vaulted ceilings like proud reminders of the All-Father. Tables running the length of the room were covered with different meats, breads, fruits, vegetables and desserts. Along the northern wall were casks of ale and wine that offered a steady stream of alcohol to all those wanting. Half the crowd was already seemingly intoxicated and the night was still young.

Sif expected this would be an interesting night.

Thor spotted her first and bellowed her name like an ox. He stumbled over to her and grasped her shoulders firmly. He reeked of ale already and Sif couldn’t help but laugh at the flush in his cheeks and the glassiness of his cerulean eyes. “Sif, I’m so glad you’re alive,” he was just barely able to get the words out. “I would mourn for eons should anything ever happen to you!” He didn’t so much hug her as he draped himself over her shoulder.

She bore his weight momentarily to humor him before shoving him off. “Let us hope that it is the ale that has made you sentimental, Thor. We wouldn’t want all of Asgard to think their shining prince has become soft.”

Thor pouted. “Soft? I am far from it or need I prove it to you right here with an audience to cheer me on!” His voice crescendoed through his exclamation, causing bystanders to cheer with him as if trained to do so. Thor appeared pleased with himself and flashed Sif a satisfactory grin. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. She patted him on the shoulder as he stopped to exchange babbles with a man beside him and sat beside her companions at the end of a table closest to the royal dais. Frigga noticed her and smiled which Sif returned before turning back to her companions.

“You look positively wonderful, Sif,” Fandral said as she sat.

She gave him an irritated look. “At ease, flatterer,” she said as she loaded her plate with chicken, pears and a delicious looking bun, “You know very well your honeyed words will not work on me.”

“I’m hurt, Sif,” his brow furrowed. “I meant you don’t look as if you are on Valhalla’s doorstep any longer.”

“We were sick with worry for you, Sif,” Volstagg said around a wad of meat in his mouth. “Gudrun has prayed for you nightly.”

“Give her my thanks,” Sif said. She popped a slice of pear into her mouth. “But there was no need to worry. I was simply taking a leave of absence from your company. The rest was very much needed.”

Hogun smirked while Fandral guffawed and Volstagg slammed his fist against the table causing the plates and pints of ale to jump and slosh. “Disrespect,” Volstagg boomed.

“You love us, and you know it, Sif,” Fandral said, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. “You would perish without us to irritate you.”

Sif laughed despite the truth in his statement. “It would seem you regard your company too highly, Fandral.”

Fandral folded his hands over his heart. “My lady, you wound me.”

The night went as they usually do: Sif and the Warriors Three bantered, Thor and Volstagg participated in several eating and drinking contests, and Sif and Hogun conversed about various militaristic strategies and current events taking place around Asgard. She found herself occasionally scanning the hall for Loki who had yet to make an appearance. Knowing him, he probably got swept away in his own affairs and would be absent the entire night. She tried to push him from her head, but would still glance around the room despite her volition.

Between conversations, Sif noticed the queen beckoning her over to the dais. She rose and ascended the stairs to her table. Odin’s attention was on an advisor sitting beside him where Thor would sit. It had been years since Thor elected his parents’ company to his companions so courtiers took up the empty seat if they needed to speak with the All-Father. She crossed her arm across her chest and bowed to Frigga.

The queen smiled kindly and took Sif’s hand. “It’s so good to see you’re doing well, Sif.” If a rose could speak, Sif imagined it would sound like Frigga. Her voice was velvety like petals and possessed a regal quality that one was just born with.

“It’s good to be out and about again,” Sif agreed. She always felt strangely around Frigga. It wasn’t discomfort that she felt as much as it was a desire to impress the All-Mother. Since Thor presented her to his parents they were children, Frigga had always been like a second mother to her. She wanted to make Frigga proud as much as she wanted to make her own mother proud, if not more so.

“Did you get my flowers, dear?”

Sif nodded. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The queen smiled proudly. “They’re from my personal garden. I’m glad you like them.”

A clamor broke out on the floor below the dais. Thor and Volstagg managed to rouse up a throng of men and were singing (well, shouting and slurring) a victory song from years ago. Ale sloshed out of pints as they chorused merrily. Frigga watched with an expression of amusement and vexation. Normally, Sif would have thought it impossible for those two emotions to coexist, but being the mother of the gods of thunder and mischief, Frigga had the expression down perfectly.

“Oh I do hope he makes it to his chambers tonight,” she sighed, finally releasing Sif’s hand. “We don’t need him passing out in the halls again.”

“We’d be lucky if he makes it out of the hall, Mother. I’m sure he’s had a cask and a half of ale to himself by now.” Loki suddenly appeared beside Sif, making her jump slightly. He threw her a wicked grin and she glared in return. She hated how he could just suddenly _be there_ without any indication of his arrival. She assumed the jump-scare was the cause of her heart rate increasing.

Frigga sighed again, almost as if she were defeated by the truth of Loki’s assumption. “I see you finally decided to join us, Loki,” she said changing the subject.

He nodded. “I apologize for my tardiness, Mother. I was studying.”

“Weeds, again,” Sif asked bitingly. She didn’t intend for her tone to sound so harsh, but she went with it and raised her eyebrows in an attempt to look superior.

“Kelp, actually, Sif. One is on land, the other underwater. I expected _you_ would know that.”

Sif wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch his face or…

“You two,” Frigga chuckled, “Be nice to each other. For me, please.”

“Anything for you, Mother.” Loki pressed a kiss to Frigga’s head.

She patted his cheek and gently pushed him away. “Go,” she said, shooing them away. “Don’t waste your time with an old bird like me. These feasts are for the young.”

“Please,” Loki scoffed gently, “You’re as young as a morning rose.”

Frigga laughed and waved them off. As they descended the dais stairs, Sif couldn’t help but notice the pride he carried himself with. It wasn’t ostentatious like Thor, but more like a reserved confidence. Back at the table, Thor and his band of Merry Men appeared to have sung themselves out and were now beginning to pass out one by one. Thor, however, was holding on strong and had moved on to the relatively simple challenge of courting his companion for the night. He cozied up to a more than willing volunteer with a strawberry blond braid resting over her shoulder. Fandral appeared to be in the same position down the table with two women all but sitting in his lap. Both Hogun and Volstagg had left, leaving Loki her only immediate option to socialize with. She supposed she could go hunt for Kelda, but knowing her, she was on her own quest for the night and she preferred her current company anyway.

“Have you eaten,” Sif asked the same time Loki asked if she’d like to dance. She blinked, caught off guard by his request.

“That’s assuming you won’t step on my feet all night,” he added with a smirk.

She attempted to scowl at him, but she found his smirk contagious. “I don’t step on feet.”

“You used to.”

“When I was a girl and first learning!”

Loki chuckled and extended his hand out to her. She stared at it hesitantly, her stomach doing an unexpected flop. For a moment, she wondered if she ate something rancid. She never noticed how large his hands were. Faint suggestions of ink stained the side of his hand and the tips of his fingers. She wondered what he had been writing at the time of earning those stains. Her eyes darted up to his face. His even countenance shifted from open and inviting to something else. His eyebrows were slightly knitted and his eyes were searching her as if they were trying to find out what she was thinking. There was an edge to his face—anticipation.

Mind blank, Sif slid her hand into Loki’s. She was startled to discover how smooth and cool it was. His hand folded around hers immediately as he pulled her out to the dance floor with a smile. Sif found herself gazing everywhere but at Loki. Laughter threatened to spill out of her at any second. Her skin prickled when his hand found its resting place on the small of her back. She felt the chill of his hand through her gown.

“Why are you so cold,” she asked. A shiver ran up her spine and her skin broke out in goose bumps.

He blinked and slowly answered. “I’m always cold.”

She wondered if she would be able to warm them. “That must be uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. For a moment, Sif wasn’t sure if he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb or if he was just adjusting his grip. Her palms grew cold and damp. She prayed he didn’t notice, but he made no indication that he was bothered. The music swirled around them in a Vanaheim waltz. The Vanir were a passionate people and it was reflected in their music. Moving passages swelled to emotional melodies, each crescendo causing a sensation of one’s heart to lift out of their chest. Sif found herself breathing heavily. She stole a glance at him. His eyes were locked on hers, heavy and hooded. A gasp escaped from her lips. When did the space between them get so small?

Her eyes flashed downwards again. His proximity was completely electrifying, causing her to be acutely aware of the closeness of his lips to her forehead and her body to break out in tremors. Suddenly she pulled away from him, her heart pounding a mile per second. Loki gave her a confused look, but she was quickly fleeing before he could ask anything. She left the hall and threw herself into a darkened alcove when she was a safe distance away.

“What is _wrong_ with me,” she growled, raking her fingers across her scalp and pulling on her hair. She remained in the alcove until she was able to calm down. When her chest was no longer heaving, she returned to her chambers. Her mind replayed her dance with Loki over and over in her mind, desperately trying to remember every detail. It was harmless, she assured herself. They were just having fun and after all, Thor was not the only member in the House of Odin with a “more than friendly” reputation. It was well known that Loki was a shameless flirt and would often resort to toying with hearts between elaborate schemes. It was only a matter of time before he turned his sights on Sif to see whether or not he could charm her like the other women.

She flushed again, only this time out of anger. How dare he assume she would crumble before him? Who did he think she was? Despite her plotting a backlash as she crawled into bed, her last thoughts were of whether or not Loki felt cold when he tried to sleep.


	4. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, for those of you who like visuals, [this is the inspiration for Sif's dress](http://www.zimbio.com/pictures/pnBQjRWS_yt/PFW+Elie+Saab+Runway+Show/SxkYVKCu1wS).

Sif very much regretted accompanying Kelda on her shopping excursion. They didn’t actually venture into the city where Sif hoped to peruse a few weaponry stores. Instead, they stayed in the neighborhoods closest to the palace where much of the nobility lived. The finer shops were located in this area. Here, one could find foreign jewels, exotic flowers, blown glass sculptures and the finest garments in all of Asgard, but not a single tactical weapon. Any sword or dagger sold in this area was strictly decorative. Asgard’s nobility had no need for actual weaponry.

They were in the third store of the day. All the dresses started to look like one another and Sif was itching to get back to the practice yards. On more than one occasion, Sif was tempted to excuse herself from Kelda, citing an emergency, and then flee to the practice yards to expel her energy. Every time she made up her mind to leave, Kelda would smile at her, blue eyes sparkling, and tell Sif how much she missed her and was so thrilled to have her company for the day. Sif was defeated. Kelda was dear to her: while Sif was ridiculed by other girls in her childhood for being boyish and rude, Kelda was accepting of Sif and found her fascinating. Sif was grateful for Kelda’s companionship. She was a much needed breath of fresh air when Thor and the Warriors Three became too cumbersome tolerate.

So for the tenth time, Sif examined the wood mannequins draped in fine silks while Kelda was fussed over by three attendants. Just as she was seeking out a chair to wait out the remainder of this excursion, a shock of bold color among the pastel and glittering gowns caught her eye. She strode to the rack and pushed the dresses back to reveal a long emerald dress. It was by far the most gorgeous garment Sif had ever seen. It was gauzy with tiny flecks of sparkles expertly sewn into the bodice and skirt. She ran her fingers over the gown in awe.

A young attendant with a girlish face slowly approached Sif from behind. “Would you like to try it on, miss?”

The attendant startled Sif. “Could I?”

The girl nodded, removed the dress from its hanger and guided Sif to a changing screen where she assisted Sif into the dress. Sif stepped out from behind the screen and stood before a three paneled mirror to inspect herself. She gasped at her reflection. The one shouldered neckline swooped daringly across her chest, accentuating the strength of her shoulder and the softness of her breast. The curves of the dress hit her body in all the right places, making her appear taller, almost looming. Sif felt feminine, yet powerful, a feeling she never thought she’d experience in a dress.

She noticed Kelda’s expression as her reflection approached and felt a touch annoyed. “Found a dress, Sif?”

“I think so,” she said as she turned to inspect the low back. “What do you think?”

Kelda paused, obviously choosing her words. “It’s green.”

“So?”

“Green is heavily associated with a certain prince of Asgard,” she said pointedly. “Are you sure you wish to make _that_ particular statement?”

Sif threw her an annoyed look through the mirror. “I am making no statement other than I think this dress is beautiful. I think I’ll have it.”

Kelda sighed and waved her off. “As you wish.”

 

***

Sif waited for the right night to wear the dress. It was far too lovely to wear to a nightly feast and needed a special occasion for its debut. Luckily, a group of dignitaries from Vanaheim were scheduled to arrive a few nights after Sif purchased the dress. The servants were in a flurry setting up for their arrival: hanging blue and silver banners alongside the crimson and gold found liberally throughout the Grand Hall, polishing the floor, prepping traditional fare of both Vanaheim and Asgard, and even setting extra places at the All-Father and All-Mother’s table for the honored guests. Tonight was the perfect night to wear it.

She was extra diligent washing up, taking care to use the special soaps Frigga gifted her on the summer solstice. After doing her best to knot her hair on the back of her head, she went to her wardrobe and retrieved her dress. Her stomach fluttered as she stepped into the dress and stood before the mirror to inspect herself. Visions of Loki flashed through her mind, drawing a smile to her lips. She knew he liked green; Loki hardly went a day without finding a way to incorporate it into his ensemble, but he didn’t own the color. Sif was well within her right to wear it independently, be damned what he or Kelda thought. Feeling like the power of Yggdrasil was coursing through her body, she headed to the feast.

The Grand Hall was already full and roaring by the time she arrived. Musicians played a merry reel as guests feasted on wild boar and goose. Electricity thrummed through her body as she picked her way through the crowd to the table her companions were always at. Her body trembled and palms grew moist. She could feel eyes follow her and hear gasps from women as she drifted by. She didn’t care about any of them. Instead, she found her own gaze constantly flicking towards the dais to see if Loki was there. However, both his and Thor’s seats were vacant. She swallowed hard. They either weren’t present yet, or they…

“By the Nine, Sif!”

Sif turned her gaze away from the dais to see her companions occupying their usual spot at the head of the table, closest to the dais. Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral were stunned, all staring blankly while Thor beamed happily at her. Loki, she notice with satisfaction, had stilled entirely with his mouth slightly agape. Fandral had called her name and was approaching her, eyes wide. He stood before her and openly eyed the length of her body. “You look so…different!”

“If that’s how you compliment ladies, Fandral,” she said smoothly, “I’m surprised you woo as many as you do.” She continued past him and sat beside Hogun and across from Loki. He had yet to peel his eyes from her.

“You look magnificent, Sif,” Thor boomed, his grin stretching into the blue of his eyes. “I had no idea you could look so much like a girl!”

“I look as much like a girl as you hit like one, my prince,” she smirked. He laughed and threw a retort at her, but she ignored him. Her eyes drifted to Loki who looked stiff and uncomfortable. “Good evening, Loki.”

“Good evening,” he said evenly.

She said nothing further. Instead, she returned Loki’s stare and offered a small smile. She watched the knob in his throat rise and fall as he swallowed. The power she felt over him was invigorating. He spoke firmly enough, but he couldn’t hide the tension that suddenly appeared between them. She desperately wanted the others to disappear.

The night passed by pleasantly enough. Every time Sif directed her attention across the table, Loki’s eyes darted to her. Volstagg was the first to retire. Gudrun had begun to feel ill early in the evening from the babe growing in her belly and departed with her husband. Hogun left shortly after to speak with the visiting Vanir to learn of new tidings from his homeland. Fandral and Thor remained, recalling a quest they had all been a part of a few years ago. Loki had interrupted several times to correct their exaggerations, but was brushed off for his “lack of memory.” Sif’s arms were twitched to beat Thor and Fandral away, but she dared not raise suspicion.

Loki cleared his throat. “Thor, I believe mother is trying to get your attention.”

Thor glanced to Loki, then to the dais where Frigga conversing with a Vanir noblewoman. “No, she’s not.”

A smile danced on Sif’s lips. “Yes, she is,” he insisted. “She has waved in our direction a few times now. I think she wants to introduce you to her companion.”

Thor took another look, this time to inspect his mother’s companion. He smirked slyly. “Excuse me, my friends.” He pushed himself away from the table and strutted away like a peacock. An uncomfortable silence fell as Fandral looked around awkwardly. Loki cleared his throat and glanced at him pointedly as he sipped his wine.

Seemingly getting the message, Fandral coughed and stood. “Ah, yes, well, I must be off. Maidens to woo and all that. Good evening, Sif. Loki.” Sif drank from her cup to hide her smile. Her eyes locked with Loki’s over the brim of her glass. She felt something pass between them. Her stomach felt as if a droplet of sunshine had dripped into her belly and was radiating warmth throughout her body. Her smile refused to be hidden and grew wider. She put down her cup lest she stain her dress. Loki smiled in return, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his grin.

“Would you like to dance,” she asked the same time he asked if she’d like to go for a walk.

He chuckled. “It seems we have a knack for speaking at the same time, Lady Sif.”

She licked her dry lips to moisten them. “It would seem so.”

Loki’s eyes fell to her lips. He mindlessly mirrored her. “A dance sounds lovely.” She stood on weak knees and carefully look Loki’s arm when he offered it to her. The smell of magic on him was strong. Her neck muscles corded as she willed herself from looking at him. She managed to sneak a peek without turning her head. When their eyes met yet again, she quickly looked forward. She felt her cheeks heat.

Once on the dance floor, they slowly turned to one another. Loki’s gaze was intense. She suddenly felt void of all the power she felt from the dress earlier. Now she felt exposed and shaky. He placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her in close to his body. She placed a trembling hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. She had time to take a shallow breath before they were off.

She looked at everything in the room, except for at him. She didn’t trust how she would react if their eyes met again at such a close proximity. Her hand tensed with the urge to fist his clothing.

“Is there something on my face,” he asked suddenly.

Sif felt panicked. “No, why?”

“You refuse to look at me,” his voice was silk. “I thought perhaps there was something offensive you wished not to look at.”

“No,” he blurted, her eyes immediately snapping to his. Her lungs stopped working. When did he become so handsome? His smile made her warm. “There’s nothing there.”

“Ah, well,” his eyes bore into her as he pulled her closer. “Hopefully, there is something _here._ ”

Sif swallowed. Her heart felt like it was ready to lift out of her chest. They continued to twirl around the dance floor. Several times, other men had stepped up to offer Sif a dance, but Loki sent them away before Sif could respond. When they had their fill of dancing, Loki swiped two cups of wine from a passing servant. He passed her a cup. “Perhaps now we could go for a walk?”

Sif took a drink of wine and nodded. A lock of hair fell in her face. Before she could fix it, Loki reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. He ran this thumb across her cheek. He curled his fingers around the back of her ear and down the length of her jaw. A shiver ran down her spine. Her lips suddenly felt tense as her eyes fell to his mouth.

Before she acted on stupid impulse, Loki offered his arm once more. He led her to the balcony and down the stairs to the garden below. The night was chilly and their breath plumed in the air. She refused to let herself shiver and have him suggest they go back inside. They strolled along the rows of deep red and orange autumn roses. The roses were enchanted and changed with the seasons. In spring they were pink and yellow and in summer, they turned bright red. By winter, the maroon and orange blossoms would change to a silvery white to match the snow. Frigga’s enchantment, if Sif recalled correctly.

“You look lovely, Sif,” Loki said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t say so sooner.”

Sif couldn’t contain her smile. “Thank you. I just got this dress.”

“It’s lovely!” He flinched at his urgency. “The color is…”

“Lovely?”

He gave her an awkward smile. “Yes.”

“I like green,” she offered, not liking how small her voice sounded.

His head snapped to look at her. “Do you?”

She nodded slowly. “I do.” Sif felt anxious when he didn’t respond. She glanced at him to see he was openly staring. There was something in his eyes that stilled her breathing. The regality of his features that he kept so unreadable were now boyish and urgent, as if he were holding himself back. Sif was desperate to fill the silence. “It seems as if the sight of me in my _lovely_ dress has rendered Loki Silvertongue speechless,” she teased, despite the uneasiness she felt.

He stopped to face her. “So it would seem.” His tone caused her to tilt her head to meet his gaze. Her heart hammered at the look in his eyes. She felt as if she were lifting off the ground as he ducked his head down to her, lips slightly parted. Her eyes fluttered shut as leaned into him. A shock of lightning passed through her body when she felt his nose brush against her cheek and the ghost of his lips on hers. Suddenly, she pulled back and turned away. Her chest heaved. It felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Tremors consumed her body. She hugged herself to still her trembling.

“Are you okay,” Loki asked, confused. Sif didn’t miss the hint of panic in his voice.

“Yes,” she shivered and rubbed her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you cold?” He stepped up behind her and hesitantly touched her arms. She bristled at his contact, causing him to remove his hands.

“No, it’s okay,” she said quickly. He gently placed his hands back on her arms and began to move them up and down. Heat radiated from his palms and traveled to the core of her body, warming her almost instantly. “A handy trick,” she whispered.

“Indeed.” After a moment, Loki dropped his hands. “Come, we should go inside. It’s getting colder.”

She nodded. “Yes, I should probably retire now. It’s late.”

Loki walked her back upstairs and through the Grand Hall. The ruckus had died down for the most part and the musicians stopped, but there was still a decent enough crowd still lingering and chatting. When they exited through the large doors, Loki stopped. “I hoped you had an enjoyable evening, my lady.”

Sif nodded. “I hope you did as well.”

“Immensely.” She squirmed as he gazed at her thoughtfully. After a moment, he took her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “Good night, Sif.” He released her hand and quickly disappeared down the hall after one last lingering gaze.

Sif’s knuckles burned. She watched him until he was completely out of sight before she returned to her rooms, a smile permanently fixed on her lips.


	5. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA. Hey! Wow. This one still exists. So uh *wipes away thick layer of dust* it's been awhile *cough*. How y'all doing? Me? I'm exhausted. I have a nasty habit of writing way past my bedtime. Forgive typos and clunkiness and whatnot. I caught the ones I noticed, but being as fatigued as I am, I'm sure I missed a few.
> 
> Edit: rewrote the fun part.

Sif was frozen to the bone when she made it back to her chambers. Asgard’s warriors trained every day despite whatever the weather may be. It started storming the previous night and had yet to let up, making it difficult for Sif to roll out of bed before dawn to join her comrades in the mucky practice fields. For six hours she ran through drills in knee high mud and sparred with opponents in flooded fields. As soon as they were released, Sif darted straight for her copper bathtub and soaked in steaming water until her muscles finally relaxed.

She discarded her muddied fatigues in a basket for her chambermaid to collect and changed into a pair of fur lined leggings and a burgundy tunic. The wind howled viciously outside. The gray of the weather obscured the view, cloaking the city below from sight. Rain drops struck her window like a shower of pebbles. She frowned at the day. In attempt to occupy herself, she sat on her window seat and began to sharpen her blades. The grinding of the whetstone against steal was hypnotic. She stared blankly as her hand skillfully tended to her weapons without intentional thought. A whip like crack of thunder made her jump. The whetstone dropped from her hand midstroke, causing the meat of her palm to slide across the sharpened edge. She hissed at the sharp sting and dropped her weapon, the metal crash reverberating off the smooth walls of her room. Blood instantly began to flow from the angry wound. She growled. The last place she wanted to go was the Healing Hall.

Of course Eir pressed her about her head as she mended the wound. Sif insisted that she was fine. No, her vision wasn’t blurry. No, she didn’t sporadically lose her balance. No, she didn’t feel any more tired than she usually did. No, she didn’t experience any headaches. Still, Eir sent her away with a tonic to drink before bed _just in case_. Sif disposed of it by handing it to a passing servant as she left the hall.

Instead of returning directly to her chambers, Sif wandered the corridors of the palace. Despite the lack of light that usually poured in through the windows, the interior of the palace glowed with an unnatural, ethereal light. She strolled lazily, idly. Very unlike her usual warrior’s march that took her from one end of the palace to the other in a matter of minutes. She drifted down the halls, her eyes lingering on tapestries hung on the walls. One in particular caught her eye. It was of a tree nymph emerging from a large oak, her knobby, branchlike arms extended towards two yellow birds flying away. The tapestry’s weaving was crude and lacked fine detail like other tapestries, but Sif was filled with sadness gazing upon it. She vaguely recalled a story Loki once told them about it. Something about the nymph and the bird being in love, but their affair ultimately ending when the bird met a more similar companion. The two birds flew away together, leaving the nymph heartbroken and despaired. As the tale goes, the tree and the nymph eventually died.

Her mind drifted to Loki. He was absent from training this morning, as usual. He couldn’t be bothered to train in fair sunshine much less a deluge. Probably preoccupied with his books or spells as usual. A small smirk danced on her lips as she rerouted to the library. The golden doors groaned as she pushed them open. She stepped into another world, one of questions, answers, and rhetoric. The library was cavernous with bookshelves stretched upwards towards additional floors that held tomes and scrolls from every corner of the Nine Realms. A spindle-like chandelier hung from the dome ceiling, pointing towards a trickling fountain that served as the chandelier’s mirror image. The library would have seemed intimidating if not for the comforting feeling of being among friends. She was no scholar, but even Sif was aware of the warmth books offered.

It didn’t take long to find him. He carved out a private niche for himself in an alcove against the far wall. His feet were thrown up on a table in front of him, neck bent as his eyes focused intently on a book he held to his face. His lips were a thin, pursed line and his brow crinkled in concentration. An involuntary smile crept on Sif’s lips. She loved the way he looked when he was focused.

As silently as she could, she approached him, her chest fluttering as she drew nearer. She swallowed hard in vain attempt to calm her nerves. Suddenly, her legs seemed to turn to lead as she neared him. His eyes darted up from the page at her heavy footfalls. Her breath caught in her throat when his eyes locked on hers, though she refused to show he had affected her. She pulled out a chair opposite him and sat down without invitation.

He gazed at her from over his book, an inky brow lifted on his creamy forehead. “Yes?”

Her leg began to bounce. “You weren’t at training this morning.”

“I never am.”

The blunt truth of his statement was very true to his nature, yet caught her off guard anyway. She grasped for something—anything—to say, but couldn’t think of anything. Mortified by her silence, she glanced away from him feigning disinterest. When she didn’t say anything, Loki turned back to his book without another word. She glared at him, annoyed by his aloofness.

“What are you reading?” she asked brusquely.

“ _Aila_ ,” he said without looking up.

“What’s that?”

“A story about a light elf traveling to Muspelheim to save her beloved.”

Sif didn’t take Loki for the kind of man to read fiction, much less love stories. She imagined he wouldn’t stray from books about spells, history, mathematics, or the like. Made up stories seemed like they would be beneath him.

“Is it good?”

He murmured in affirmation. His long index finger curled beneath a page and flipped it over, his eyes darting back to the top. She frowned as she fell out of his awareness once again. Her ego felt bruised. The previous night dancing with him—his hand firmly pressed on her back, their bodies close together, the tension, and their near kiss in the garden below—seemed unreal given his disregard for her company. She felt foolish.

“Well I will leave you to your books.” She stood suddenly, the fluttering in her stomach and chest now replaced by fire and embarrassment. He set his book down, a perplexed expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

She didn’t want him to know he affected her so thoroughly. Suppressing a withering glower, she shrugged him off indifferently. “I was simply seeking out your company, but I see you are otherwise engaged so I will leave you be.”

“And what is it that you want?”

The way the light shined on his face like the moon sent a bolt down her spine. His dark green eyes held hers unwaveringly. Unaware of the state he was putting her in. She couldn’t say she sought him out just to be near him. He’d laugh and tease her mercilessly. Maybe even tell Thor to share in the laugh.

“I needed advice on what book I should read,” she said without thinking. Loki lifted his brow higher, obviously skeptical by her reasoning. Sif wasn’t known for her interest in literature. “It seems like a day for reading, only I have nothing for it. I figured you could help me with that.”

He stared at her for a moment, studying her. She refused to shift under his gaze. At length, he placed a marker in his book and carefully placed the book on the seat beside him. “What were you looking for?”

She shrugged. “I was hoping you’d suggest one.”

“Any particular kind?”

“One of your favorites, I suppose.”

He didn’t respond, which made Sif grow nervous. She pretended the back of her neck was swore and rubbed it to give her an excuse to fidget without making it seem like Loki was the cause. When she finished, he was still watching her, his face unreadable. She swallowed.

“Well?”

He sighed and looked at her in thought. “There is one I think you’ll like,” he said seemingly more towards the ceiling than to her. “It’s about a warrior who must spiritually bond with a shapeshifter in order to defeat a dragon. It’s a thrilling read.”

To her surprise, her interest was genuinely stoked. “Alright. I’ll try that one.”

He removed his feet from the table and stood in front of her, the toes of their boots touching. A flush heated her cheeks from his sudden proximity. She glanced up at him and sucked in a breath at the sight of his dark, heavy eyes on her. “Follow me,” he said, his voice like midnight velvet.

He walked past her, leaving his scent lingering in his wake. She followed him to the other side of the library, down an aisle that looked like any other. How he managed to find anything specific in the expansive library was beyond her. He pulled a blue book from a high shelf, flipped to the first page and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He snapped the book shut and handed it to her. Curious, she took the book in her hands and studied the front cover. Strange markings in gold were threaded on the front cover. When she opened it, more strange markings covered the pages with an occasional illustration breaking up the text.

She frowned too. “What language is this?”

“Elvish,” he said. “I forgot it was written by a light elf from Alfheim.”

She continued to flip through the pages. “Pity. It sounded like an interesting story.”

“By far one of my favorites.”

The lilt in his voice made her glance at him. “Tell me about it?”

His face softened with a smile as he orated the tale. She listened intently, captivated by both the story and the storyteller. He looked different as the told the tale. Alive. Passionate. Eventually they sank to the floor as he went on. Smiling, she rested her head against the bookshelf, her eyes fixed on him. He was caught up in the story. She could tell by the way he gesticulated with his hands and forgot to look at her. She didn’t mind this time. It was like watching a performance or listening to a song. His passion was her entertainment.

When he finally remembered to look at her, he faltered. The light in his face dimmed as his brow furrowed in thought. Alarmed, she sat upright, worried about what happened to his mood.

“What’s wrong,” she asked.

He shook his head and continued with the story as if nothing happened. She noticed he looked at her more often, stealing glances almost. A low, intense energy began to buzz. She couldn’t help but grin despite the fluttering in her stomach. Each time Loki glanced at her, the corners of his mouth turned upwards to mirror her smile. She imagined kissing him, her lips starving for his and her fingers aching to touch him. How would he react? Would he kiss her back or go completely still? Or would he jerk away, completely put off by her bold move.

She didn’t notice when he finished his story. He cleared his throat probably a second or third time before she came to. The buzzing energy was gone. The air was still; thick and tense.

“I can see why that’s one of your favorites,” she said despite not paying attention to the final leg of the story.

He nodded and glanced at her, his eyes asking a question Sif was hoping they were asking. He cleared his throat and stood. “I should be going,” he said, “I have obligations I must see to.” He extended his hand down to her. She slid her hand into his, marveling at how smooth his palms were. His fingers curled around her hand as she pulled herself up and stepped closer to him. He drew in a breath, obviously surprised. She couldn’t help but smirk. Loki Odinson was rarely caught off guard.

Sensing she had the high ground, she withdrew her hand and swayed closer, their bodies just inches apart. She exhaled, her breath heating his neck. A shudder visibly took him as he turned into her, his lips grazing her forehead. His hands ghosted up her arms, prickling her skin from his nearness.

He exhaled slowly. "What are you doing to me?" he murmured as she pressed her body flush against his.

Her fingers tipped down this throat and the length of his torso, drawing a low groan from him. She mimicked his moan, teasing him. "Would you like me to stop?"

There was a disappointed grunt in his throat when she intentionally withdrew her hand before she skimmed the erection prominent in his trousers. He lowered his mouth closer to hers. "Gods no."

 He nudged her forehead with his and moved closer, his mouth parting and exhaling hotly, seeking her. Still he had yet to touch her, an action which was frustrating Sif senseless. Like a teasing child his fingers continued to ghost her arms. Feeling bold, she rested her hands on his hips and pulled herself closer, coming in contact with the evidence of his arousal. He groaned again, longingly. Pained. Sif never heard him make that noise before, but suddenly that's all she ever wanted to hear. No longer able to keep at their game, she tilted her head back and pressed her mouth to his.  
  
Loki's reaction was immediate, like flood gates bursting. His hands sprang like traps around her arms, gripping her firmly and holding her against him. A fire awoke inside of her. Lit with lust, she cupped his face and pulled him along as she backed up against a bookshelf. He pinned her between his arms and left a trail of kisses down her jaw to her neck where he began to worry her sensitive flesh with a combination of tongue flicks, gentle biting, and kisses. She moaned, her body rhythmic against his, and hiked her leg up to his hip. He grabbed her leg and held it there, squeezing her backside as he pushed his hips between her thighs, his arousal pressing against her once more.  
  
She needed him. She was sure if she didn't have him, she would die. No longer she cared that he was Thor's little brother, or that this may be some perverted betrayal to him. The desire she felt for Loki was overwhelming and needed to be sated by the trickster's bare flesh.

“Loki!”

They froze. Thor’s voice was unmistakable. Why he was there searching for Loki, Sif hadn’t the slightest clue. Perhaps like herself, he was bored and was seeking his brother’s company for entertainment. Regardless of his motives, he selected the most inconvenient time to find him. They remained still and soundless in hopes that he’d abandon his search, but as his footsteps drew nearer, Sif lowered her leg from Loki’s hip.

“Come to my room tonight,” she whispered quickly. “After the banquet.”

He nodded and returned her fiery kiss before she snuck away, just barely avoiding being caught by the indiscreet God of Thunder. She was electric when she returned to her rooms, her lips swollen with Loki’s hunger. An ache between her legs threatened to drive her mad. She wanted him. She couldn’t fight it anymore. Years of repressing growing attraction for Asgard’s younger prince was now at a head. She would have him, and she would be his. It was only a matter of time now.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession time: I have no idea where this is going. I am literally flying by the seat of my pants on this one. Hopefully I get my ducks in a row and figure out what's happening so I won't feel like I'm floundering through each paragraph.
> 
> Kelda *is not* an OC. She appears in Straczynski's 2007 reboot of the Thor comics. She's quite the unexpected badass #shitspoilerssorry.
> 
> Also, if there is an angel out there willing to be a BETA, drop me a line.


End file.
